When the end is over
by Anonymous91
Summary: Dean has killed Lucifer, and the apocalypse is over, ridding the world of all evil. But Sam is missing, and Dean needs to find him. Zachariah who started to turn Angels evil is on the run, and has one thing in mind; getting to Sam before Dean does. *Fin*
1. Chapter 1

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**Chapter 1**

"_Come with me, Sam. We can fix this." Dean pleads with his younger brother._

"_No, Dean. We can't fix this. It's who I am. It's in my blood." Sam's lower lip quivers slightly, and Dean is sure he can see the smallest amount of the blackness of evil flicker in his green eyes._

"_Sam..." Dean is lost for words, as he watches Sam mentally pull himself in the direction that six months ago, he was petrified he would be going in._

"_Get out of here Dean." Sam warns, his voice low and authoritative. "He's coming."_

_For a moment, Dean had forgotten about Lucifer rising, starting the apocalypse. The brothers had run, both in the classic, jet black, 67 Impala. _

_Dean looks out at the lake they had stopped by. It was quiet, peaceful; no sign of evil anywhere._

"_It's the end of the world, Sammy." He breathes, turning back to look into the scared face of the brother he raised as a hunter. Sam looks away, secretly wishing Dean away. The silent flapping of wings, and the disturbed air, warned the two men of another presence. A presence neither had expected to feel. _

"_We've failed." Dean speaks. "It's started. He's risen." _

"_We know, Dean." Castiel says in his low, dangerous, emotionless voice. "We need you to come with me." _

_Dean turns to face the angel, the soldier of God. _

"_We?" Dean's voice emanates his growing rage."And who is 'we' exactly? Last I heard, God had left the building. If there is no God, then I'm no longer required."_

_Castiel doesn't seem phased by Dean's tone._

"_There is a high power at work here, Dean. We need to discuss...important business...with you." Castiel looks from Dean to Sam, and then back again. Dean knows that whatever Castiel has to say, he has no intentions of saying it in front of his brother. _

"_Go, Dean." Sam tries to get rid of Dean again, desperate for his brother to be safe. Dean doesn't have a chance to reply. He blinks, and when his eyes are open again, the scene has disappeared, and he's back in the room he was held in when Zachariah had informed him of the plans to let the world end._

_*** _

It has been six months and four days since Dean had last seen his brother. He wasn't even sure if he was alive. Castiel had barely visited since the day he pulled him from the earth to discuss the worlds future. Three days and nine hours ago, Dean had successfully ended the apocalypse. Lucifer wasn't in his cage rotting in Hell. He wasn't walking the earth in a therapist's meatsuit. He was dead. Dust. History. Dean's body ached, and he was tired. He hadn't slept easily for months.

Flipping open his phone, he dialled in Sam's number. Yet again, he only got voicemail.

"Dammit Sam. Answer your phone." He talks, slurring his words a little. He closes the phone, and takes another swig from the bottle of whiskey. Half of it was already gone. Dean had forgotten how to feel. There's nothing except a drunken, fuzzy feeling. No happiness, no success, no pride, no sarcasm. He's an empty shell. He had won the war, but he had died inside. He had saved the earth, and everyone on it, but he had lost himself.

Dean picked himself up off of the floor, and dropped back onto the crappy motel bed. He could feel the springs of the mattress through the bedcovers, but he is too numb and drunk to care. He places the bottle and phone on the night stand, between the two double beds, and rolls over. He closes his eyes, imagining Sam asleep on the bed next to his as he had done for so long now, and allows himself to dream the nightmares he's had since rising from Hell.

"Hello Dean" Castiel's voice rings through Dean's head. The nightmarish scene of bodies covered in blood, and laying at his feet, changes into a scene he wishes never to see again. He is at the lake. The same lake he stood by when he looked at his brother for the last time. The lake that showed no signs of the world coming to an end, when the end had just begun.

"What do you want?" He says to Castiel, his voice as dead as the demons he enjoyed murdering.

"We haven't been able to find you." Castiel doesn't sound annoyed, or angry, or happy, or proud, or successful. He sounds informative.

"A few hex bags can help more than you know." Dean thinks he is being sarcastic, but can hear no wit behind his simple sentence. He tries to smile his usual cocky grin, but nothing happens. His cheeks are still, made of steel.

"You saved the world. God and his angels would like.."

"Well, you can shove God and his army of angels up your ass, because I've had enough of them and their stupid religious crap." Dean snaps, turning his back on the one angel he thought he could trust.

"Dean, we..."

"And let me ask you one thing, Cas. Where were you and the rest of God's warriors when I needed them? Huh?"

"We did everything within our power, Dean. We had our own battles to fight in Heaven."

"Yeah, okay. You hypocritical, arrogant, stupid, son of a bitch." Dean yelled, getting the closest to any emotion than he had since the day he had left Sam. "I think I want to wake up now."

Dean opened his eyes, facing the motel's dirty ceiling. He sighed, not sure on whether he could carry on breathing any longer. His head was still fuzzy from the whiskey, and he felt sick. Looking at the clock, he could see that he had been sleeping for a little over six hours. He sat up and swung his legs over the bedside, and took another swig of the whiskey. Sure that he had enough, he got up, packed his duffel bag, and left the motel. There was no need to pay – it had been abandoned since the owner had been killed, then possessed and killed again by Dean himself.

"Dean?" Bobby look confused, but pleased to see the man he thought of as a son, standing on his porch. "What are you doing here, boy?" Bobby looked wary.

"Hey, Bobby." Dean said, in his monotonic voice. "Just thought I would pop by."

"Well, come in." He stepped aside so the hunter could walk in. "Can I get you a drink? A beer?" Bobby asks, once the door has closed and both men are walking into the study where Bobby does his work. There are books open everywhere, on every surface, describing rituals and exorcisms and hexes and all other things supernatural.

"A beer would be great, thanks Bobby." Deans says, picking up one of the books. The pages read on how to reseal a broken seal. Bobby soon reappears with two beers; one for himself, and one for Dean.

"Have you heard from Sam?" Dean already knows the answer, but he asks anyway. Bobby shakes his head, solemnly.

"I'm so sorry, son." Bobby says. "But the boy just doesn't want to be found." Both hunters let out a sigh. Dean remembers he has news to tell Bobby. News, that he knows, will make Bobby happy. Or, at least, it should.

"Bobby, I gotta tell you something."

"Okay."

"It's about the apocalypse." Dean continues.

"Go on." Bobby urges, and Dean can see him gripping his beer hard.

"It's over. Lucifer is dead. I killed him myself."

"Wait, are you sure?"

"I'm positive. I had clarification from the angels last night."

"You done it, Dean! I knew you could." Bobby's face ruptured into a well earned grin.

"Yeah." Dean didn't return the enthusiasm.

"So, what does that mean?"

"I guess it means I've rid the earth from all things evil."

"I guess we're officially out of a job now, huh?" Bobby jokes.

"We need to find Sammy." Dean says, and he is sure the same thoughts are running through Bobby's mind.

"He's not evil, Dean." Bobby says it almost as if it is a warning. "He's out there, somewhere."

"Yeah, I hope so. Because if killing Lucifer meant killing Sammy, I'd rather have died myself."

"You're a moron, boy." Bobby said, this time he made sure Dean knew he meant it. "We'll start the search first thing tomorrow."

***

Sam wakes up to find himself, yet again, on a beach. His mouth is full of sand, his hair too. Grains trapped under his clothes scratch at his skin. He looks around, as his eyes adjust to the sunlight, and sees a young couple, hand in hand, stroll along the shore line, their dog splashing in the waves. This isn't the world he fell asleep in.

"Sam Winchester." A voice says, one of power. Sam looks to his left, where a man is sitting in a deckchair, wearing a grey suit and a blue tie. He looks around sixty, but still youthful.

"Do I know you?" Sam asks warily.

"My name's Zachariah." The man speaks. "And I'm the angel on the top of the Most Wanted list."

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	2. Chapter 2

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**Hope this is okay, I sort of rushed it, and I was half asleep lol!**

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** Chapter 2**

_"_**_Do I know you?" Sam asks warily._**

_"_**_My name's Zachariah." The man speaks. "And I'm the angel on the top of the Most Wanted list."_**

Sam gets up, scrambling a little as the soft sand moves under him.

"Calm down, Sam." Zachariah says, fully at ease. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"What do you want?" Sam demands, sounding more confident that he feels.

"What I want doesn't matter right now." The angel smiles. "It's what you want that really matters."

"I don't understand." Sam feels a little stupid. He also thinks this is a trap.

"You set my brother, Lucifer, free!" Zachariah booms, smiling. "I owe you the biggest thank you ever." Sam just watches him, ready for an attack. He hasn't had demon blood for a while, not since Ruby was killed by his brother, but he knows he has changed. He still has the power that he feared for so long. "You were our hero." The angel continues. "When no one else could succeed, you came along and did our work for us, as if it was simple enough all along. We're all impressed with you, Sam. We think, thanks to your bravery, that we should reward you." Finally the angel stopped speaking.

"What I did was wrong. I brought on the end of the world. I was tricked into doing your dirty work, and I regret every moment of it. The only reward I am worthy of, is death." Sam spoke strongly, and he could hear the disgust lacing his words.

"Sam, Sam, Sam. Always so melodramatic. Of course, we can't grant you death, but anything else, anything you want, and you can have it."

"I want to see my brother." Sam says, feeling a twisting in his gut as he says the words. He wasn't sure if Dean was still alive, and he didn't need to think about this request.

"Well," Zachariah's face turned dark. "We could grant you that, but it wouldn't be a very pretty outcome. Even you know that, don't you?"

"No, I..." Sam started, but was cut off. His head was starting to hurt, so he rubbed his temples, hoping for it to work.

"Dean thinks you are evil, Sam. He despises you. In fact, I happen to know that he and Robert Singer are hunting you down right this minute, as we speak." He paused for a moment and Sam looked up at him. "They're looking to kill you, Sam. Your own brother, out for your blood."

"You're lying!" Sam shouted, refusing to believe the words the Angel spoke so easily.

"Am I?"

"Dean wouldn't kill me, and you know it as well as I do." Sam's heart had started to pick up pace; he felt rage, and disgust. His head started pounding again.

"Calm down, Sam. Don't give yourself a heart attack."

Sam raised his hand, concentrating hard on the man sat in front of him, and felt the power build up and release itself from the tips of his fingers. His head pounded harder, feeling like it was going to crack his skull. His blood pounded through his veins, and he could hear his heart beat in his ears. A bright blue flash, and the scream of a fully grown man, pierced the stillness, letting Sam know he had managed to send the Angel back to Heaven. He collapsed back onto the sand, panting as if he had run a marathon. He wasn't as strong as he used to be, but the demon was still in him.

He rested for an hour, half waiting for another angel to appear, half needing to sleep. He couldn't decide if Zachariah had been lying, or not, about Dean and Bobby hunting him down to kill him. He wouldn't be all too surprised, after all, he did start the apocalypse.

The sandy beach hadn't disappeared yet, so Sam figured he must still be dreaming. He hadn't seen the sun for over half a year, and each cell in his body rejoiced as the warmth of it touched his skin. He took off his shoes, and felt the softness under his toes. He got up and walked, maybe for miles, along the shoreline, allowing the water to lap over his feet and get his trousers wet. Somewhere in his mind a voice is telling him that this isn't real, that the real world is coming to it's end, but he can't help but wrap himself in the luxury of his new paradise. Soon, he comes to a path way, and he can't help but walk up it. At the end, a street carries on for what seems like infinity, shops lining one side. He crosses the road, with caution as car's pass by, and peers into the shops. They are all bustling with customers, and everyone has a smile on their faces. After another few miles of walking, his feet start to hurt, as he hasn't bothered to replace his shoes, but he doesn't care. Groups of people pass him, all laughing and joking. A single man is standing at the top of the street, watching children play in the park. Sam was so busy watching the faces of others, he hadn't realised he had walked out of town and into a rural area. Big, white houses lined both sides of the street. Their gardens were neat and tidy, their paint work pristine. As Sam approaches the man, he can't help but look at the laughing children. Their soft voices are like a melody.

"Excuse me?" Sam says, and the man turns to look at him.

"Can I help you?" He smiles.

"I-I don't know where I am." Sam manages to say, sure he sounded like a wierdo.

"No worries, young man. You are in Texas."

"Of course." Sam says, feeling more lost then he ever had. "Why is everyone so happy, and cheerful?"

"Haven't you heard?!" The man exclaimed. "The end has finally stopped. We have been granted a second chance. We must thank God, because we have everything left to live for. You should be happy, and pray." The man smiled, and Sam almost stopped breathing.

"It's all over?" Sam repeated, sure his ears were defying him.

"Take a look around. This is it now, my boy. Euphoria!"

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess so." Sam smiled a little, still unable to process the information. "Thank you for your help."

"Don't thank me! Thank the Lord."

Sam just smiled politely and nodded, knowing that this wasn't God's work. There was only one person that could have caused this to happen, and that was the person he longed to see the most. The person he had deceived and lied to for a year. His brother, Dean.

***

"Dean, wake up. I've got a lead." Bobby was nudging Dean, who had fallen asleep in an armchair with a map on his lap.

"What? A lead?" Dean looked up at his mentor, the closest thing to a dad he has, and sighed. "Well spill the beans." He didn't care that he clothes were wrinkled, his eyes were blurry, his head hurt and his mouth tasted like a sewer. He just wanted, and needed, to know Sam was alive. That Sam wasn't evil.

"Ellen called. She said Sam got in touch with her two weeks ago. Wanted to know if she was okay. He was in Texas." Bobby said, waving a piece of paper as he spoke.

"Right, let's go." Dean got up, and felt a twinge in his stiff back. He leant backwards, popping his bones back into place, then started towards the door.

"Now, just hang on a minute." Bobby said, not following Dean. "This could be a trap, for all we know. In case you've forgotten, Dean, two weeks ago the planet was still covered in all things evil."

"So? We'll go and find Ellen, then." Dean shrugged, seeing it as simple as it sounded.

"We don't even know if Ellen is still alive."

"She has to be. She just called you, didn't she?"

"It could have been a demon. We don't know for sure that there is no such thing any more. For all we know, they could just be lying low. Hey, you killed the devil himself. If I was evil, I'd hide in fear for my life, too."

"Bobby, I'm going. With or without you, I'm going to find my brother." Dean finally said, raising his voice a little.

"Dean, I want to find Sam too, but we have to be a little more careful."

"Bobby, I have an arsenal in my trunk. You can't get any more careful than that!" Both men stared at each other, a little fire in each of their eyes.

"Fine." Bobby sighed after a moment. "If you are going to go and get us killed, that's fine. But you gotta do one more thing first, son. You could at least ask that angel friend of yours if this is a trap."

"Trust me, he's not a friend." Dean says, and for the first time in a while, detects a hint of sarcasm. "But okay. Give me ten minutes, and then we go." Dean walked out of the house, and down to his Impala. Part of him was grateful Sam hadn't taken it, part of him wishing he had. He couldn't help but imagine his brother walking down a silent, desolate road – easy prey for a demon. At least he had taken a gun, some holy water and some salt with him. He slid in behind the wheel, wondering how to call for an angel.

There was no need to usher any words from Dean's lips. Castiel was already sat next to Dean on the front, leather seats.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel nods, still with his emotionless voice.

"Is Ellen still alive?" Dean doesn't bother with greetings. He's still angry with the angels.

"Your friend is fine." Castiel sounds uninterested.

"And Jo, too?"

"Dean..."

"Is Jo ok, Cas?"

"Yes, she is okay." Dean lets out a sigh of relief. "This isn't why I'm here. We need to talk business. We have Zachariah. But he's already started what we feared he might."

"Zachariah? The all time evil warrior of God? Wow, Cas, you guys are seriously starting to get good." Dean can't help but smile a little to himself, grateful for the return of his sarcasm. Castiel doesn't seem to remember the number one trait of Dean Winchester, and carries on with his news.

"He's gotten to your brother, Sam. We don't know what he's told him, but knowing Zachariah, it's not good. Dean, be careful when you find him."

"He's got to Sam? What's that supposed to mean?"

"We don't know yet."

"Well, he must have said something to you guys! C'mon!" Dean is starting to worry for his brother, more so than before.

"We don't know, Dean." Now Castiel seems angry, so Dean bites back his retort. "We're trying to find out what his plan is, but he's harder to break than Alastair. His will is extremely strong."

"Do you know where Sam is?" Dean dares to ask. Castiel slowly shakes his head twice. "Okay. We're going to find him."

"Be careful, Dean. Just remember that. Be very careful." And then the car was empty, all except it's owner.

"Dick." Dean mutters, hoping Castiel could still hear him, and then watches as Bobby leaves the house, locks up, and joins him in the car.

"I've just got off the phone with Ellen. She's staying in Canon City." Bobby says, holding onto a map.

"That's Colorado, right?"

"You got it."

"Then let's go. And Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"Put down that map. I know where I'm going." Dean turns the key in the ignition, and the Impala roars to life, and then purrs as Dean pulls out onto the road.

***

Ellen greeted both of the men with tight hugs, after they had crossed the line of salt, grateful for the company.

"Hi, Ellen. It's great to see you." Dean smiles.

"You two Dean, and you Bobby. It's been too long." Ellen smiles, pulling down the chequered shirt she was wearing, which had risen slightly as she reached up to embrace the tall men. "Can I get you a beer?" She walks through the tacky motel room, and opens the mini fridge. Both Dean and Bobby share a look, before saying,

"Sure, why not?"

Ellen had already gotten the beers out, and was handing them to the men as she sat herself down on one of the uncomfortable chairs. Both men copied her.

"So, what can I do you for?" Ellen asks, already knowing it wasn't purely a social call.

"We're looking for Sam." Dean replies, seeing no reason to lie. "And we heard you were the last person who talked to him."

"Sure, he called a couple of weeks ago. He sounded real tired." Ellen shook her head, disapproving of something.

"Did he say where he was?" Bobby kept quiet, drinking his beer, as Dean questioned the widow of a hunter.

"No, he didn't. But Jo knew someone, who knew someone, if you get my drift, and soon managed to find out where he last placed the call too." Dean didn't need to ask where, Ellen could see it in his eyes that he needed the information, as if he had been starved of it. "It was traced back to Stamford, Texas."

"Stamford? What was he doing there?" Bobby finally speaks.

"I don't know, Bobby. But he sounded desperate for some information." Ellen shakes her head, taking a swig of the beer she held in her hand.

"What information?" Dean hadn't touched his beer, temporarily forgetting it, desperate to hear anything Ellen had to say.

"He wanted to know about something called the GoatMan." Ellen shrugged her shoulders. "I told him I've never heard of it before."

"The GoatMan? Sure, I've heard about that one. It resides in Maryland, miles away from Texas." Bobby chipped in, and both Ellen and Dean turned their attention to him. "Legends say that he's a mass murderer, and lies under a bridge. I forget which bridge, but people really believe in him."

"And what, he's half man, half goat?" Dean sounds sceptical, not quite believing in something that sounds so high-school-prank-ish.

"That's what the legends say."

"But why, just why, would he want to know about a legend of a half-man-half-goat when he's states away from it? Something isn't right." Dean says, finally taking a swig of his beer.

"That's what I started wondering, so I did some homework of my own." Ellen said. "I called one of my hunter friends, and he says he's looked into it before. Only, when he was researching it, he couldn't find anything."

"So Sam's chasing a lead that isn't there?" Dean asks.

"Well, I dug a little deeper. You know how us women are, Dean! We just can't settle for halfway." Ellen winked, and then carried on her talk. "So, I checked out some of the legends around this _thing_ and some people say that the GoatMan actually hangs around in Maryland."

"We know that, Ellen." Bobby sighed, sounding exasperated.

"Maryland, Texas." Ellen looked almost proud, and took another gulp of her beer, looking no more feminine that Dean or Bobby.

"Did you tell him? That he was practically sitting on top of this..._monster_?" Dean asks.

"I called him back as soon as I had the information. I got his voicemail, so I left a message. Told him to sit tight, that I was onto something. After an hour or so, he called me back. So, I told him I had a lead that could be helpful, but I needed to look into it."

"And he said...?"

"He said he would stay put, wait for a phone call." Ellen drained the last of the beer from her bottle, and placed it on the cheap plastic coffee table in between them all. She didn't wait for any more questions. "So I called him a few days ago, told him that I found out it was in Texas, but he told me he already knew that. The legends had been retold so many times, people just assumed it was in Maryland. People soon started to report sightings, mainly high school students. Most of them were recorded in Prince Georges County. But no one considered Maryland in Texas. I told Sam all of this, but he wasn't really listening. It was like he was obsessed with finding this thing. I told him that he should watch out, ask for some help, but he was adamant it was something he had to do alone. He hung up after that."

"So he might not be in Texas any more." Dean rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the dreamy blurriness.

"He called me three days ago." Ellen said, and suddenly Dean shot upright.

"Three days ago?!"

"Yup. He's still in Texas. Had some interesting news to tell me. Apparently, it's something you should have told me yourself." Ellen raised an eyebrow at Dean, and watched as he realised what she was talking about.

"I'm sorry Ellen. You're right, I should have told you." Dean shook his head. "But I was too busy looking for Sam." Dean was lying. He hadn't been looking for Sam, he was too busy getting drunk.

"It's true, then?" Ellen looked from Bobby to Dean, who were both nodding their heads yes.

"Wow, well done Dean." Ellen's eyes were tearing up. "Thank you. Thank you so much. Jo will be ecstatic. I'm so proud of you." Ellen got up and flew herself at Dean, hugging him so tightly his ribs started to hurt. He patted her back, feeling slightly awkward, and smiled at her when she finally let go.

"It's not over yet Ellen. Not until Sam is safe with me."

"Of course, of course." Ellen nodded sitting herself back in her chair. She was blushing lightly. "Well Sam told me the news, and said he couldn't understand it. He told me to go outside, but I wouldn't. I didn't even know if it was him or not. I wasn't about to walk straight into a trap, so I told him I'd take his word for it. He said that he needed to find you, but he'd been warned by an angel that you were out for his head on a stick. He isn't sure on what to do. He doesn't believe he has the right to live."

"What did you say to him? He's okay, isn't he? The angel was Zachariah. He's responsible for letting the end begin. He's after something. He's messing with Sam's head." Dean got up, and started to pace the small space in the motel room.

"He's okay, Dean. I told him to stay in Texas, use a false name. I said that if you came here looking for him, I'd point you in the opposite direction. He believed me, which I suppose is a good thing. I'm afraid I only have his number, nothing else. But I hope that's enough for you to find him."

"He's still in Texas?"

"He was three days ago." Ellen nodded, and then starting writing a number down on a piece of stationary. "Here, it's his number. Don't go calling him, he'll know you got it from me. And don't get me wrong, I love you both, but I don't want to be caught in the cross fire between you two."

"Thanks Ellen." Dean nodded, trying to smile, but he couldn't. He wasn't sure on what his face was saying, but he felt shock, relief, excited, nervous, scared.

"Now, you go and find your brother. He needs you more than he thinks." Dean nodded, and Bobby and Ellen stood. "I'll see you guys soon, I hope." Ellen said, holding the door open for them. "And take care." Dean and Bobby nodded their goodbyes and then left, not sure where they were going, except Texas.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Hey! I don't own anything, much to my own disgust.  
****So, atm I'm stuck on where this is going. I know someone is going to die, and how they are going to die, but I can't decide. It'll either be Sam, Dean, Anna or Castiel.  
****If anyone has any idea's, feel free to email them to me, because they'll be appreciated dearly!**

**So yeah...please comment coz I took ages on this one! **

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**Chapter 3**

The sun was high in the sky, and the day was uncomfortably warm. The 67 Impala, which was still in pristine condition, crossed over the Texan border, the two passengers anxious to what they will find. There's nothing strange or unusual to be found, as the car purrs it's way through a few towns.

"It's quiet." Bobby muttered, observing the deserted streets of Sterling City. "Where is everyone?"

The driver, Dean, slowed the car down to 20 as he, too, scrutinized the empty streets.

"Call it wishful thinking, but maybe they're just inside with their families, eating a delicious lunch." The younger of the two hunters shrugged.

"Maybe." Bobby nodded in agreement. "Or maybe the world isn't as clean as we're hoping."

"You think this could be demonic?"

"I wouldn't know. I've never survived an apocalypse before. Come to think about it, I had never seen one before, either. First time for everything, I guess."

"Seem to be doing a lot of that lately; guessing." Dean muttered, mainly so Bobby wouldn't hear, and mainly because it was directed at himself.

"Dean! Watch out!" Bobby suddenly yelled, pointing to a young girl running directly at the car. The brakes slammed down hard onto the Impala's tyres, coming to an almost abrupt stop.

"What the - " Dean started as he got out of the car. The girl was stood, frozen, looking directly at them. "Are you ok?" He asked, not leaving the side of his car, shielded behind the open door. The girl looked around the age of six, maybe seven. Her hair was long, a rich chocolate colour, and had a baby-blue ribbon in it, holding two plaits in place. Her eyes, wide with what appeared to be fright, looked directly at Dean, and then at Bobby. She didn't say a word, didn't even gasp in some air, before she turned on her heel and ran in the opposite direction and rounded a corner, disappearing out of sight. "Hey!" Dean called after her in a deep, throaty voice. "God dammit!" He got back into his most prized possession, and sped off around the corner in hope of finding the scared girl again. The men had no such luck.

"What was that about?" Bobby wondered aloud, but got nothing but a fierce look back from the man sat next to him.

The two men drove around the streets of Sterling City for a few hours, until the sun was barely visible in the sky. After torturous hours of non stop 'what-ifs' and 'maybes' they decided to head to a motel.

"Any particular motel?" Dean asked in his gruff, sarcastic tone, and he mentally rejoiced for finally returning to himself. "Any tickle your fancy?"

"Watch it, boy. I could still kick your ass." Bobby retorted, and then pointed to a motel just up the road from them. "That one will do."

Whilst Dean's mentor and father figure booked them two different rooms (they'd probably end up killing each other if they shared) Dean raided his trunk for anything that may be helpful if he came under siege whilst he slept. After putting a sawed off shotgun, some salt-pellets, a bag of salt and a bottle of Holy water in his usual green duffel, he set about setting another up for Bobby. The latter came back to the car just as Dean slammed down the trunk lid.

"Here. It's got everything you might need." He said, handing the bag to the older man.

"Rooms 213 and 215. Take your pick." Two cards were held up against each other.

"I'll take 213. See you in the morning?"

"Bright and early." Bobby nodded, heading for his room. Dean made sure the Impala was locked, and then he did the same.

The room was dark and dingy, but it was evidently clear that the owners had tried to spruce it up with the little money they had. The walls were dark green, and the wallpaper was peeling in the corners. The bed was narrow, for a double, with cheap, brightly coloured blankets and pillows. The television was small, but it held no interest for Dean. He threw the duffel onto the bed, and opened the mini-bar fridge with every intention of helping himself to a beer. It was empty.

"Hmm." Dean wasn't too surprised, but he had hoped. Deciding that he _really_ needed a beer, he took the room key, and headed for the nearest store.

The local store was only a five minute walk, much to his relief. They also sold plenty of beer. He took a six pack to the counter, where he was impressed to see a beautiful red-head waiting to serve him.

"Hi." Dean smiled, trying his best cheeky grin. "All alone tonight?" It had been a while since he had flirted. He had, embarrassingly, almost forgotten how to flirt.

"Boss is out back." The girl replied, her smile the sexiest man-eating smile Dean had seen since before Hell broke loose. She leant forward, probably aware that her top hung too loose, revealing more flesh then Dean could have hoped for. "It's a shame, though." She stood back up, winking, and asked for the ten bucks. He gave it over, tearing his eyes from her cleavage to her face, and took the beer back to his motel room.

Dean was still grinning when he reached the door to the dingy, dark room. He remembered the way her eye's twinkled, her tongue rolling along her top lip, her curvaceous body.... He froze, mid thoughts, as the door swung open. He recognised the back of the man instantly. The coat gave him away. The coat, and his height.

"Holy crap, Cas. Ever heard of knocking?"

"Knocking?" Castiel turned to face the surprised hunter, his head tilted a little, trying to understand. This wasn't the first time Dean had mentioned knocking, but he still wasn't sure what he meant by it.

"Never mind." Dean sighed, closing the door behind him with his foot, and placing the beers on the table. "Beer?" He knew that angel would turn it down, but he found something almost funny in offering anyway. Castiel answered by a slight shake of his head, and watched Dean open the bottle and take the first gulp. Dean walked past the immortal, and sat on the end of his bed – it was more comfortable then it looked. Neither of them said anything for a minute, but then Dean broke the silence. "Why are you here?" He didn't mean to sound rude, but it seemed it was the only way Castiel was going to talk.

"Your brother is close." The angel said simply, turning to face the other.

"We know. Me and Bobby are looking for him."

"Are you prepared?"

"Prepared for what? Is there something you need to tell me?" The angel made a habit of talking in riddles, which annoyed most people that met him, to no end.

"You need to be ready for a fight. Sam isn't looking for brotherly love right now. We think he is darker than he has ever been."

"Darker? Has he been using his mojo again?" Dean stood up, almost squaring up to the powerful being stood before him.

"There is a storm coming, Dean. The angels are worried. It seems Lucifer wasn't the only thing to fear."

"So what do you want me to do about it? I'll talk to Sam, bring him around." He was pushing desperately to not believe that his brother was now a huge risk to the human population.

"It's not just Sam who's the threat. Some how, Zachariah has managed to escape us. We're afraid he has big plans for your brother, and they aren't good."

"Plans? What sort of plans?"

"We can only speculate at the moment, but we think he's planning on raising Sam's army. The army Azazel prepared before." Dean just nodded to this new information, not quite sure on what to say. He was looking for a quick, witty remark, but came up blank. "You'll find Sam in Robert Lee. If you're quick, you might make it to him before Zachariah does. If not, I'm afraid it will come down to either your life or his." Castiel didn't blink as he spoke, didn't even look upset for delivering the news that no one would want to hear. In fact, his face was more cold and stone-like than Dean had ever seen before.

"Okay." Dean nodded. "I'll get Bobby, we'll go right now." The strong, but yet weak, man stood, slinging his duffel over his shoulder as he did. Castiel nodded once, in agreement, and then disappeared, disturbing the air slightly.

***

Sam slept soundly in the comfortable hotel bed. His slumber was dreamless, until the angel appeared, still wearing the same suit he always had.

"What do you want?" Sam asked Zachariah, still unsure on whether to trust him.

"I have come to forewarn you, Sam Winchester. Heaven is worse than anyone could believe. There are almost no angels on God's side any more. They no longer have faith."

"I'm sorry?" Sam replied, unsure why this man was telling him this.

"I'm afraid even Castiel has chosen the path to disobey. You knew him, did you not?"

"Yeah, he was helping Dean..."

"Not helping him, luring him. It was Castiel's decision to stop your brother from preventing the final seal being broken. Dean Winchester is being led astray, sadly. When he comes here, you must convince him to be on your side. Together, we can defeat the blasphemous army Castiel chooses to lead."

"But how? He trusts Castiel. He trusts the angels."

"But he trusts you more. He will listen. You just have to make yourself heard. He will be here in an hour."

"But...Wait!" It was too late. Zachariah had already disappeared, and Sam was alone, and awake, in the hotel room. Sitting upright, the conversation from the dream slowly flooded into Sam's brain. His brother would be here in an hour. How he knew where Sam was, he wasn't sure. He pulled open the drawer in the bedside table, and took out his old phone. After he turned it on, he found thirty-two miss calls, and twenty-nine voicemail messages. He put the phone to his ear, allowing himself to hear the voice he hadn't heard since the night he killed Lillith.

_Sam? Where are you! Answer the phone!_

_Sammy? I don't blame you. We need to stick together. Call me._

_Sam! It's been weeks, man. Where are you? I'll come and get you._

_Okay. I get that you don't want to talk to me, but at least call so I know you're okay._

_Answer your phone, dammit!_

_Sam, I love you man. Are you okay? Call me._

_It's been months Sam. No word from you. I'm worried._

_Sam, it's over. We won. Call me._

_Dammit Sam! Answer your phone!_

The messages went on, and on, and on. After Sam had finished listening to all of Dean's desperate plea's, he had began to wonder if Zachariah was right; if Dean really did want him dead. All the messages could have been a trap, a false sense of security. Sam looked at the clock. Forty minutes had passed. He got up, pulled on some fresh clothes, and placed his handgun (which he kept on the bedside table) in the waistband at the back of his jeans. If Dean was coming to kill him, he was ready. He sat in the little chair, facing the door, waiting. He pulled the gun back out – it was uncomfortable to lean on - and placed it on the little table next to him, keeping his hand resting on it. Minutes ticked by, and eventually, there was a strong, study knock on the door. It was the knock of his brother.

***

Sam didn't answer the door, so with a nod of reassurance from Bobby, Dean twisted the door handle. It was unlocked. He pulled out the 9 mill handgun, and raised it, in case there was anything waiting to attack him. In case this was a trap. He pushed the door open, and slowly, Sam came into sight. He was sat, stiffly, on a chair, his hand on a gun. He looked as if he was expecting someone else. Someone dangerous.

"Sam? Sammy? Is it really you?" Dean ignored his voice breaking, cracking, with emotion. He lowered his gun, and Bobby copied.

"In the flesh and blood." Sam shrugged, and got up. He left the gun on the table, not feeling so nervous now the other two hunters had placed theirs in their coat pockets.

"Man, it's been too long." The oldest of the two brothers crossed the room in two, big, strides, and wrapped his arms around the other. Sam eventually hugged back. "Where've you been? What've you been doing?" He asked, once he let go of Sam, who towered over him by at least another few inches.

"Been around. Killing demons, ghosts, you name it." He replied, and then looked over to the oldest man in the room. "Hey Bobby. It's good to see you."

"You too, kid." Bobby, accepting the surroundings, also bound over and embraced Sam. It was different to Dean's hug. This was a fatherly embrace.

"So what are you doing in Texas?" Dean asked. He knew what Ellen had told him, he hadn't forgotten. But if Sam lied to him now, he knew he couldn't trust him. One lie would be all it took to know Castiel was telling the truth. That Sam was darker than he had ever been, and Dean would have to kill him.

"Ellen called me a few weeks ago. She told me there was a case I should look into. I picked it up for her."

"Ellen called _you_?" Bobby chirped in, sounding as sceptical as Dean felt.

"Yeah. She said her and a few hunters had been on the case for a while now, but couldn't get anywhere. She wanted some fresh eyes, so I told her I would give it a go. So I came to Texas."

"That's all and well, Sam. But, you see, we happen to know it was _you_ who called _Ellen_. She told us where you were. Told us that you had become obsessed with this case." The older Winchester boy said.

"I'm not lying." Sam said, who looked hurt by the accusation.

"So you're saying Ellen is?" Dean shot back.

"No..."

"Because I've been told things. And I prayed, not in the literal sense, that they weren't true. I was told you were going dark side. Is it true?"

"No. Dean, _I'm not lying_! I'm telling the truth. I swear, on my life."

"Oh, on your life?"

"Yeah..."

Dean didn't wait for Sam's response, or Bobby to say anything. He didn't wait for a reasonable explanation to enter his mind. He just reacted, let his body take control. He pulled his arm back, clenched his fist, and pushed all off his body weight forwards, as his arm swung around. His fist landed squarely on Sam's face. He waited for a response, for his brother to fight back. But he didn't. He just spat some blood from his mouth, and slowly looked back at Dean. So, Dean pulled his arm back, and hit him again. But Sam still didn't respond. He lifted his arm for a third time and...

"Dean! That's enough." The voice wasn't his, wasn't Bobby's and it wasn't Sam's. All three men turned and looked at the woman who had silently appeared in the room before them.

Nobody moved. Hell, nobody even dared to breathe too loudly. Finally, after many exchanged glances between them all, the only person who had had a personal relationship with the once-fallen angel, spoke.

"Anna, what are you doing here? I thought you were dead." Dean said, slightly confused.

"It's a common misconception." Anna replied in her soft, but deadly serious voice, lazily shrugging one shoulder. The cheeky grin soon played at the older Winchester's lips as he reminisced of the time they spent in the back of the Impala when Anna was human.

"You're looking good." He looks over her body, testosterone zooming through his veins.

"Thanks." A smile is pulling the corners of her mouth, her eyes twinkle. She is remembering too. A cough from one of the other occupants in the room grabs the angels attention. She turns to the two men, and nods in greeting. "Sam, Bobby. I'm glad to see you're both still alive."

"You, too, Anna." Bobby smiles, as if finally seeing an old friend that has been away for years on end.

"I don't mean to be rude, but what are you doing here?" Dean asked again, as Anna had managed to dodge the question the first time it was asked.

"I could ask you the same." She quickly replied. "And before you knock any of your brothers teeth out, you should know he wasn't lying. Neither was your other friend. If you opened your eyes, you'd be able to see that."

"Well, thank you for your brief evaluation of mine and Sam's business. Now you can answer my question. Why are you really here?"

"I'm looking for Castiel." She replied. "Nobody has seen him since his last visit to you. I suppose asking you if he told you where he was going is going to be a waste of time?" Anna looked worried, possibly frightened, even though angels weren't wired-in to feel emotions. That's what makes her different; she disobeyed, she fell, she's a walking blasphemy. As a punishment, though not a direct one from God, she can feel the emotions a human feels.

"I haven't seen him since he left me at the motel. I don't know where he was headed for next, either. Me and Cas aren't the sort of buddies to have slumber parties and share secrets." Sarcasm laced the words falling from the humans mouth.

"Something must have happened to him. He's not answering any of our calls." Anna looked away, turning to stare out of the window. There wasn't much of a view – just some houses and shops across the street.

"'Our calls'? You're working with others now?" Nobody interrupted the conversation between Dean and the angel.

"Heaven isn't what it used to be." Anna said, not turning to face the talker, sighing a little. She sounded almost sad.

"Oh."

"It's almost...like God doesn't care any more." Another sigh. "Not since Zachariah..." Anna abruptly cut off her sentence, and turned to face the three men.

"What about Zachariah?" Sam jumped, caught off guard at the mention of the angels name.

"I can't tell you anything. I shouldn't have mentioned it. I'm sorry Sam, it's nothing personal."

"Since when do you live by the rules?" He snapped back.

"If she can't tell you, Sam, then..." Bobby started, but Dean cut in.

"She can't, but I can." He watched Anna for conformation. She nodded slightly. He turned to his brother as he tried to recall everything he had been told.

"He wants an army released from Hell, or so the angels think. Kinda like what Azazel wanted."

"An Army? But why? Who's crazy enough to lead an army of demons?" Sam asked, more thinking aloud, but he was answered anyway.

"You are. Or so Zach hoped. He wanted Lucifer raised from his depths, which is why he tried to stop me from stopping you kill Lillith. He needed the final seal broken. Luckily, for him, I was too late by the time Castiel managed to break me free. But now that I've killed Lucifer, Zach's not happy. He wants to control the earth, have power, be God." Dean let out a sarcastic chuckle as he thought of God's warrior trying to replace his Father. "So, that's why he's come to you. He was hoping that you would help him, and lead them into another war."

"But that's insane! Dean, Zachariah has told me everything. He doesn't want another war. He wants peace, like Utopia. He told me. Anna says Heaven isn't what is used to be, and she's right. They've all changed, and for all we know, so has she. They're all twisting your arm, including Castiel. They've gotten to him, too." Sam argued. No sooner than he had finished his sentence, the lights began to flicker and the sky outside darkened. Clouds rolled, thunder clapped and lightening flashed. Everyone, except Anna, stumbled a little and had to regain their balance as the floor below them shook. The windows rattled in their frames, and the lamp fell off the bedside table and smashed.

"Watch your tongue!" Anna boomed, the shadow of her wings seen clearly through the flashing. Wind blew from nowhere, whipping her hair around crazily, and for the first time since knowing her, the three men saw Anna as the powerful being she really was, instead of just a girl. Sam's nostrils flared slightly, his Adams-apple moving quickly as he gulps, clearly scared of the angel. "Castiel is the most loyal, devout, faithful being of our kind. He wouldn't consider blasphemy even if his existence relied on it. So be careful of what comes out of that disgusting mouth of yours, Sam Winchester, before you have the full wrath of Heaven coming down heavily on your behind."

Bobby, Dean and Sam watched, wide eyed, waiting for Anna to calm down. Slowly, the thunder and lightening stopped, the sky returned to the normal dark blue, and everything stopped shaking. The red hair fell around Anna's face, making her look as if she had just come inside after a hurricane.

_That was kinda hot._ The oldest brother thought, raising his eyebrow a little, and tilting his head.

"Hardly appropriate, Dean." Anna said to him, her voice still soaked with power, but the lop-sided smile alerted the others that the worst was over.

"I'm sorry." He lied, straightening his face.

"Back to Castiel." The smallest, oldest man says after a moments awkwardness. "He was your angel, right Dean?"

"Well, not mine exactly." He says, but stops the sarcasm when Bobby gives him a stern look. A look the reminded him of his father when he disapproved of something Dean had done. "But I was in his charge, yeah."

"And he didn't say anything about what he was doing? Not even a little hint?"

"No, like I said, we weren't exactly best of friends. We talked about work stuff, and that's it."

"Something has happened to him." Anna said again, her eyes staring off to something no other could see. "I can _feel_ it."

"I don't know what we can do with no information. And I hardly think a certain someone is up for the job." Dean looked to his brother, who returned with an aggravated glare.

"But you'll help? If I need you?" The red headed angel looks into Dean's green eyes, and she thinks she can feel something, although she's not quite sure what it is. She had felt plenty when she was human, and now she was back to being an angel, she could still remember a lot of the emotions that played out, but this was new. It was different.

"Of course." Dean replied, sounding wistful, distant. He never really fully appreciated how deep Anna's dark brown eyes were.

"Great." She said, breaking the moment, just as she was so close to recalling the name of the glowing that warmed her soul.

"I'll be back soon. Be ready." Then, with a whipping of wings, and a flurry of air, she was gone, and the men all turned to look at each other.

"Guess we've been reinstated." Bobby almost, but not quite, manages the same sarcastic tone that's famous with Dean.

"Guess so." He replies, and collapses into the chair he had found Sam sitting in.

* * *

**Please please**** comment :D**

**And send some idea's!**

**Ly **


	4. Chapter 4

**Don't own anything...if I did it wouldn't be as good as it is xD**

**Although...if anyone wants to buy me the boys, I really wouldn't object ;)**

**Anyways, please read and review, because reviews = love and love = Supernatural =D**

* * *

**Chapter 4 **

Dean and Bobby poured over books normal people wouldn't even dream of reading, whilst Sam tapped away at the keyboard of his laptop, all of them looking for something that would indicate why Castiel had disappeared. Ellen, who looked tired and pale, was pacing the small space in the motel room, trying to make sense of the story she had been told by the three men when they had turned up at the place she was staying.

"So, angels are real?" She asked anybody who was listening. Sam continued the annoying sound of keys tapping, and Bobby didn't acknowledge Ellen's question, so Dean nodded a yes. He was grateful for the chance to give his eyes a rest. They had been scanning through books for two hours now.

"And they don't have halo's, and white, fluffy wings?"

"Nope." Dean shook his head.

"Wow." Ellen sighed. "But your angel, Castiel, has gone missing? And you got this information from _another_ angel, who had once fallen from Heaven for disobedience, which makes her sort of like...an illegal immigrant...up there?" Ellen pointed up to the ceiling, but Dean knew she meant Heaven.

"He's not _my_ angel." He repeated for the fourth time that day. "But, yeah, that's pretty much the gist of it."

"Right." Ellen seemed to be considering this for a moment. "So," She finally continues, "How do you know you can trust this angel, Anna?"

"We've known Anna for a while. It's not her you've got to worry about; she's one of the good guys."

"Okay." Ellen nodded, and Dean watched her. "I think I've got it. There's good angels, bad angels, an illegitimate angel and a missing angel." The three men all looked at her and nodded.

"Don't forget the army of demons." Sam added.

"Of course." Ellen grumbled. "I'm going to get something to eat. I feel kinda dizzy. Any of you guys hungry?"

"A little." Sam and Bobby said at the same time.

"I'm starved." Dean grinned. "Bring me some pie. I like pie." Ellen nodded, and then, sighing, she left the room.

"Do you think she's coping? It's a lot to handle all in one sitting." Sam asked the other two, as he resumed his research on the computer.

"If I know Ellen, she's coping better than we think. Tough as old boots, that one." Bobby said, also returning to his searching.

"Well, I'm tired of looking at words and wacky pictures and symbols. I'm heading for a shower." Dean chucked the old book back in the pile with the rest, and started towards the bathroom. "And don't go stealing any of my pie." He warned before closing the bathroom door. Luckily, thanks to Ellen's good taste, this bathroom had recently been modernised, and was pretty clean. Dean turned the nozzle of the shower on, and undressed.

*

An hour had passed by the time Dean had gotten out of the shower, and redressed. His clothes stuck to his still damp back, but he cheered up when he spotted an open box behind the laptop. It was his pie, much to his delight. Sam had decided to start looking through books, allowing Ellen to try some research on the computer. Just as Dean took the first bite of the pie – which he found out to be cherry – Sam announced to the room that he had found something. Everyone's attention turned to him, as he summarised what a whole chapter read in a book.

"Basically," he started, "to raise an obedient, demonic army, you need the blood of a 'half-breed'. Which, I'm guessing, is why Azazel felt the need to create people like me." Sam blushes a little, as he brings attention to his blood 'disorder'. "It also explains why he had to make so many of us. I can't see that a large number of demons would be willing to to do as they are told at the snap of two fingers. He was probably expecting his 'children' to be killed off. He had to make sure he had enough as a back-up plan."

"Oh, great." Dean snorted. "My brother is a back-up plan. Now I feel _really_ inadequate."

"But there aren't any more left. There's only you." Bobby said to Sam, everyone ignoring Dean's sarcastic quip.

"Exactly." Sam answered Bobby. "Which is why Zachariah had to come to me. The problem is, we now know his plan, and, according to the book, the blood has to be given willingly. We know that's not going to happen, so, if Zachariah somehow did get his hands on some of my blood, it wont open the gateway to the army."

"So, we're sorted then? The army can't rise without you." Dean said, but immediately felt a 'but' when Sam's eyebrows raised slightly, and he sighed.

"Well, there is one other way. To open the gateway, you can either use a small amount of willingly-given 'half-breeds' blood, or a vast amount of blood forcibly taken from the enemy."

"An enemy? So, a hunter?" Ellen asked, speaking for the first time since Sam had started speaking. Dean slipped another piece of pie in his mouth – he didn't want it to go to waste.

"No." Sam shook his head, his face gloomy. "Not a hunter. Something far worse. A true enemy to a demon, is one that possess as much power or more, and is unwilling to do demonic things. It's an angel. To open the gateway, it's either me, or an angel."

"So, if an angel can do it, why was Zach after you?" Dean asked after swallowing his pie, and before shovelling some more into his mouth.

"The amount of blood needed would be huge. And it's got to be _forcibly_ taken. He can't do it himself. He'd need an angel who was against him, which narrows down the possible victims, somewhat. But one has already gone missing..." Sam trailed off, the others not needing him to say who they were all thinking about.

"Castiel." Dean filled in, anyway.

"And how much blood is a vast amount, Sam?" Bobby speaks, his voice a little strangled, trying to look at the page Sam had open.

"Enough to kill the vessel." Anna, who had silently joined them somewhere in the conversation – and nobody had noticed - made everyone jump. "Which means, long story short, Zachariah is going to kill Castiel."

* * *

**This is a really short chapter, I know, but that's because I needed something to explain how the gateway will work, seeing as the colt is no longer 'around'. Plus, hopefully, the next chapter will be pretty long, and worth the wait. There will only be another 2/3 chapters...and the end is already written. One of my friends has read it, and her eyes welled up, but it's not good enough yet because the tears didn't spill over! Can't wait to get this story finished, because it was really just something for me to do, and I haven't really enjoyed writing it. BUT the other supernatural I'm writing I'm really enjoying, and is pretty swell :D**

**Please review guys, it means a lot to know people are reading it. Criticism is welcome, but I prefer compliments lol.**

**LYL **

**xoxo **


	5. Chapter 5

**So, here's a chapter. 2 more left to go.**

**I don't own anything other than the boys..in my dreams :)**

**Please review! I read them all, and love hearing what you guys think. **

**Thanks for the support, it means so much to me =D **

**The next chapter is dedicated to **Sammie**, who's simple words 'Anna...it's got to be her' inspired the outcome in a way I don't think she intended, but all the same, it inspired me.**

**Thanks.**

* * *

**Chapter 5**

"**And how much blood is a vast amount, Sam?" Bobby speaks, his voice a little strangled, trying to look at the page Sam had open.**

"**Enough to kill the vessel." Anna, who had silently joined them somewhere in the conversation – and nobody had noticed - made everyone jump. "Which means, long story short, Zachariah is going to kill Castiel."**

*

"So what do we do?" Dean jumped in, before anyone else could.

"We need to stop Zach. It wont be easy, but we need to act fast." Anna said, urgency and authority in her voice.

"How?" Sam cut in. "We don't even know where he is!"

"He's heading to South Dakota. "He's lying low, hiding. We managed to get some information from one of his supporters. It wasn't pretty – he had a strong will." Anna grimaced.

"So let's go!" Ellen said, standing up, and then she turned to Anna. "I'm Ellen by the way." Her cheeks seemed to redden a little. Dean didn't even know Ellen _could_ blush.

"No, Ellen. You're staying here. It's going to be too dangerous." Sam said.

"I'm sure I can handle it." She defended.

"Sammy's right. You have Jo to think about. You can't get in the middle of this, it's not morally right."

"We promise to keep you updated." Bobby joined in, and Ellen sunk back into her chair.

"Fine." She muttered.

"Before you start picking out a battle cry, you need to start packing up. Dean, Sam, we need everything; Holy water, guns, salt, iron.."

"Why? That wont touch Zachariah. He's an angel, last time I checked. He's still one of you." Dean said to Anna, who flinched a little.

"He is nothing like me." She almost snarled. "And don't worry about Zach, I think I've got that much covered."

"How..." Dean started to question, but was cut off by Anna. Her hair flipped around her head, like when she was with them in Sam's motel room, but at least they didn't have to experience the rest of it again.

"Stop asking questions, and get moving!" She shouted. "We don't have much time! Bobby, stay. We need to talk." Anna commanded.

Dean and Sam scrambled up.

"We'll meet you in five minutes, by the car." Sam said, as the Winchesters rushed out of the door.

The sky above was a dark blue, but clear. Their motel room was three doors down, so it took little time to get there. Dean unlocked the door and swung it open as he walked in, Sam following. Neither bothered to close it behind them. The darted around the room, picking up shirts and socks, and weapons and stuffing them into the duffel's.

"Soap." Dean muttered, rushing into the bathroom, and coming back with two bottles of shower gel – one his and one Sam's – and a bottle of shampoo. He shoved them into the clothes duffel, and then went back to the bathroom to reappear with two toothbrushes in a wrap and a tube of toothpaste. Sam rushed over to empty the desk drawers, where they kept some food supplies, salt and Ruby's knife. He placed them all in the weapons duffel.

"Sammy, throw me a gun." Dean called over to him. Sam didn't need to ask why – they needed to be able to defend themselves if push came to shove (which it often did).

"Hey, Dean." Sam stopped packing his duffel, the weapons all stuffed away. Dean looked at him from across the room, where he was packing the last of his contents. "I know we haven't talked much since, you know. At the motel before it all happened...I shouldn't have....I didn't mean...what I'm trying to say..."

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean nodded, accepting his brothers attempt of an apology. "Me too."

"Thanks," Sam said as he zipped up the duffel. "Hey, if this goes wrong, if one of us doesn't make it, I want you to know..."

"Sam, please, you're breaking my heart. This is going to go down smoothly, and afterwards, I swear I am going to have the biggest piece if pie I can find. And then some more." Dean did the cheeky grin that told Sam not to worry, that his big brother, somehow, was going to look after him.

"Yeah, same." Sam flung the duffel over his shoulder, his brother copying. "And a beer. Or maybe two."

"Amen, to that." Dean nodded, and the brothers walked out of the motel room they hoped to never stay in again.

*

Bobby followed in the car behind them as they made their way to South Dakota. Neither of the brothers spoke, neither wanting to remind the other of what they were about to face. ACDC played loudly, drowning out any pessimistic thoughts either had. Sam caught a glimpse of red hair in the rear view mirror, jumping a little.

"You're a bit jumpy, Sam." Anna noted. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, well, we're about to face an army of demons and a pissed off angel." He muttered, not sure on whether Anna heard him. She showed no signs of doing so as she turned to Dean, who was reading a map by torch-light.

"Do you know where you're going, Dean?" She asked. Dean turned to face her.

"Somewhere in South Dakota, why?"

"I can't put my finger on what, but something tells me it wont just be anywhere in Dakota. Have you looked for anywhere that might be good territory for what Zach's trying?"

"Nothing has popped up so far." He shrugged.

"That's not actually true." Sam chirped in, keeping his eyes on the straight road.

"Sam?" Dean asked in the way he used to, his tone suggesting; 'What aren't you telling me Sammy, and why?'

"I've been thinking about this whole thing, and it just all clicked into place. The devil's gate, in Wyoming, was in an old graveyard. A _really_ old graveyard." He stopped, waiting for questions.

"Okay, I'll bite. What's your point?" Dean said.

"Well," Sam continued, "the church burnt down there years ago, way before we were even born."

"Six hundred years ago, to be somewhat exact." Anna mused.

"In another words, it was once holy land. Once, being the operative word, there."

"So Zach needs what? Holy ground, that isn't holy any more?" Dean quizzed.

"I think so. It would make sense; same army, same terms."

"You _think_? No offence, Sammy, but we got a lot riding on this, and if you're wrong, we could be wasting precious time."

"Yeah, well, I don't see you coming up with anything better." Sam snapped at his brother.

"I've been looking at the damn map for two hours, trying to find something." Dean argued back. He knew he shouldn't have, because he had noticed how Sam hadn't been drinking the demon blood, and it made him snappier. Although Dean was thankful Sam was okay, he couldn't help but wonder how much Sam was actually Sam any more.

"Uh, guys?" Anna interjected over the argument, but neither heard her.

"Maybe you should look a little harder? It's always me that's gotta do the brain work."

"Always you? So what do I do, Sam? Just sit there and look pretty?"

"Guuuys?" Anna tried again.

"Pretty much. Excuse the _pun. _Oh, I'm sorry, do you know what a pun is? Because if you don't..."

"DEAN! SAM!" Anna shouted, making the windows rattle, finally grabbing the attention she wanted.

"What!?" They shouted, Dean turning in his seat, Sam's eyes flicking to her in the mirror as he drove.

"Brothers." She muttered, before continuing. "If Sam is right, which he probably is..." Anna didn't miss the smug look on Sam's face reflecting in the mirror. "...then I'm pretty sure I know where Zach is. Angel-mound."

"Angel-mound?" Dean raised an eyebrow, having never heard of such a place.

"It's what we call it, up in Heaven. It's where the fallen angel's are buried when their time of passing comes. Once holy, but no longer."

"Right. So how do we get to this place?" Sam asked this time, ready for directions as he passes over the state-line. It had been a long car journey, but they had managed to cut it down from about 19 hours to just 13.

"Just keep driving. I'll be able to tell you when we get closer. I'll be able to sense it." Anna says, settling back into the seat. "And in the meanwhile, you two should settle your differences."

*

Sam and Dean tried not to think of the reason behind Anna suggesting they 'settled their differences'. Normally, in their world, people would only do that if they knew a hunt was going to go South. Nevertheless, they did so anyway.

Angel-mound looked like any other hill that had a giant oak tree growing at the top. The late afternoon sun complimented it perfectly as the light shone through the thick branches, casting a magical air to the atmosphere. Birds chirped, and squirrels played on the fresh, lush grass. Several white crosses stood at the base of the mound, marking the graves of the fallen Warriors of God.

"It's where the Graces were laid to rest." Anna answered the quizzical looks of the Winchesters and Bobby as they stared up at the tree. "Of course, they were removed when Lucifer rose. Angel's graces would have been too much of a treat for him." She spat, and Bobby noticed how guilty Sam looked.

"Once holy." Dean muttered.

"Mhm." Was Sam's reply.

"So, where are they?" Bobby said aloud, as he looked all around him. The graveyard was deserted, all but the other three stood with him.

"They aren't here, yet." Dean stated the obvious. "Maybe they are running behind schedule?" He hoped. Damn wishful thinking.

"No, Zach's on schedule all right. Look." Anna started towards a white cross, Dean, Sam and Bobby following. Red splattered the cross, contrasting uniquely.

"I'm guessing that ain't no tomato sauce." Bobby huffed.

Anna bent down, and ran her fingers across the red substance. For a quick second, Dean thought he saw it glisten silver.

"Angel blood." Anna shook her head. "Zachariah has made his mark. This is where the ritual will take place." Instinctively, all four looked over their shoulder, but there was still nothing there.

"So, how do we stop it?" Dean spoke everyone's question.

"We can't. Blood has already been spilt. The army will rise." Anna sighed, sounding as if she was ready to give up all hope.

"Can't stop it? There's nothing we can do?" Sam almost shouted, his voice an octave higher than normal.

"We're too late. Zach was ready for us. He's...bragging." Now Anna sounded disgusted, and the three men felt it too.

"And Cas? Do you think he's..." Dean trailed off.

"No, he's not dead." Anna said, sounding certain. "Zach's boastful, but he's not stupid."

"So, all we have to do is figure out how to contain the problem once the problem has been raised from Hell." Sam thought aloud.

"We still have a few hours. We'll go back to Bobby's place to figure something out. I'll meet you back there. There's something I have to do." And then, with the usual disturbance of air and whipping of invisible wings, Anna was gone. The three hunters turned on their heels, and headed for their cars. Dread painfully twisted knots in the bottom of their stomachs.

*

The three men sat in Bobby's clutter-filled, messy living room. There was still no sign of Anna, and it had been a while.

"I'm not so sure this plan is going to work." Dean shook his head. It was five in the afternoon, almost time to start kicking demo ass. One thing that they knew was certain was the time of the ritual; 7:03pm. 66 minutes after 6pm.

"Cliché." Dean had muttered when Bobby had shared the information.

"I'm getting nervous about Anna." Sam admitted, glancing at his watch again.

"Anna can hold her own." Dean said, slapping Sam on the back in a brotherly-caring kinda way. "You just gotta focus on saving your own ass."

"And Castiel's." Bobby added. The brothers just nodded, knowing that if everything went to plan Zachariah's way, there would be no Castiel to save.

"Should we go over the plan again? One last time?" Sam asked, starting to feel the mix of anticipation and adrenaline he usually experiences before a hunt, or in this case, a battle.

"Sure." Bobby shrugs, taking charge. "You're going to approach Zachariah, tell him he was right. Dean is dead, and you want to help. You want to offer your own blood. You make sure Castiel is released, and you prick yourself with a pin, or whatever, and then it starts."

"But don't use _any_ demonic power you may have, Sam. Otherwise, we may have to exorcise you to Hell." Dean joked.

"Shut up, Dean." Sam snapped, rolling his eyes, and then nodded for Bobby to continue.

"When we're sure Castiel is out of the way, me and Dean will start putting our part together. We'll run a salt circle around the whole graveyard, keeping anything raised, in that area. If we're quick enough."

"It would bitch up the whole plan if we were seen, so we'll keep low." Dean added.

"We know there wont be any bodies to be possessed, so there's going to a huge storm of black smoke. But, what comes up, must go down." Bobby continued.

"Basic science." Dean grinned. Sam and Bobby shot him an annoyed glare, and his smile faded, returning him to his serious face.

"Once we're certain the smoke's not getting out, I'll start sending the son's of bitches back to the Pit. Whilst I'm doing that, Dean's going to be distracting Zachariah, and you're going to be helping him. If the angel comes after me, well, you both know the ritual. The chanting can not stop, for whatever reason." Bobby warned.

"I gotta say, Bobby." Dean said, looking at his feet, shaking his head. "This plan sucks, No matter what, someone is going to have a seriously pissed off, mega powerful, angel on their ass." Dean looked up at his mentor through his thick lashes.

"I know." Bobby agreed. "But we're out of time, and we haven't got another plan."

Sam sighed.

"It's time. Anna's not here, but we better make a move if we don't want to be late." The three men stood, refusing to acknowledge that this could be the last time they see each other alive, and walked out of the front door. The Impala waited patiently, packed full of everything the may need, and the hunters set off. They had a date with fate.

*

Dean watched from the bushes that surrounded the area. Sam was walking towards Zachariah, who was looking at him with curiosity. Castiel was bound and gagged, lying on the floor next to the blood smeared cross. His face was badly bruised, and he looked weak. A large red stain covered the front of his shirt, and his coat. His eyes widened when he saw Sam appear.

"Sam Winchester! It's an honour! What brings you here?" Zachariah greeted Dean's brother, his evil smirk planted on his face. It reminded Sam of the murdering clown he once had to kill. He shuddered.

"You were right. My brother was trying to kill me." Sam spoke, his voice confident and strong. If Dean wasn't the brother Sam spoke of, he would have believed it himself. "Unfortunately, for him, I managed to complete the task first."

"Dean Winchester is dead?" Zachariah asked Sam, looking for any signs of him deceiving him.

"I killed him myself." Sam said, holding his head high, staring straight into Zachariah's eyes. The power in his brothers voice sent chills down Dean's spine. Maybe Sam wasn't fully Sam any more. Lying was too easy for him. The old Sam couldn't lie to save his life.

"I don't believe you!" Zachariah shouted, but he didn't look angry, just merely amused.

"Ask him." Sam looked at Castiel, and Dean saw what he could describe as pure hatred on Sam's face. "Dean was his charge. He can tell you whether I am betraying you."

Zachariah turned to Castiel.

"Well?"

Castiel just stared at Sam, his eyes wide. Dean looked over at Bobby, who was sat on the other side of the graveyard, barely visible. He returned the nervous stare. Their plan relied on Castiel's intelligence. If he couldn't catch on to the plan, they would all surely die. The hiding men turned their attention back to the scene in time to see Zachariah kick Castiel hard in the abdomen. Castiel's eye's shut tight, and his skin paled. Dean could barely watch the angel in so much pain. Finally, Castiel shook his head.

"He speaks the truth?" Zachariah asked Castiel again. Dean stopped breathing, awaiting Castiel's answer. Finally, Castiel nodded, and Dean exhaled, relieved.

_Thanks, Cas._ Dean thought, wondering if the angel was tapping into his head. _We're gunna sort this mess out. _He was sure he saw Castiel nod slightly.

Dean had to hold back a cry as someone appeared beside him. It was Anna.

"Anna, thank God. Where were you?" Dean whispered urgently, still watching Sam through his peripheral vision.

"I had to get something. I got a little...held up." It was only after she turned to face Dean he saw how battered she was. It looked like she had been fighting her own battles. They both returned to watching Sam's back, as they whispered to each other.

"What was so important?"

"It doesn't matter right now. Has Zach bought it?"

"It looks like it. Sam's pretty good out there, huh?" Dean was waiting for Anna to tell him that it was just what Sam had to do, that he hadn't really changed.

"Sam isn't the old Sam any more, Dean." She whispered, turning to look at him. He faced her, and he could tell she wished it otherwise. In was in her eyes.

"Anna, that time in the car, when you were human..." Dean said under his breath, knowing she could hear.

"Hardly the time." She cut in, her voice a little louder, but still a hushed whisper.

"Humour me."

Anna's eyes flicked to Sam and Zachariah, and then back to Dean. She nodded once.

"It was nice." Dean shrugged, staring into her deep brown eyes.

"Yes." She said simply. And he kissed her. His surroundings vanished, and for a moment, his world was simple and it was just those two. In the back of his mind, he wondered what was wrong with him. Was he in love with this angel? Then, all too soon, he pulled away.

"Dean..." Anna started.

"Just in case." Dean smiled a little.

"No, Dean. It's starting." She whispered urgently, and they turned their attention back to the scene they shouldn't have stopped watching.

* * *

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	6. Important! Please read

Hey guys, so my laptop has crashed, and I'm currently using a public one...so I wnt be able to update for a couple of days, BUT I promise, as soon as I can, I will. The next two chapters are KILLERS! Lol

Love it.

Thanks for all the support, and I hate being the one to keep you all in suspense!!

Please keep reading when I can post a new chapter!!

ILYL

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	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer - I own absolutely nothing!  
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* * *

**Chapter 6**

Sam looked down at the knife being held out to him. His muscles tensed as his body told him to back off, but his mind told him to get on with it. His eyes flicked to the bound angel lying on the fresh grass; his wrists looked painfully bound, but his body was slowly healing. Sam's stomach knotted. Although he hadn't had any so-called good experiences with angels, he felt physically sick from looking at one in such bad shape. He knew there wasn't really a choice. It either had to be him or the angel. Sam would always choose himself. Maybe he was masochistic, he wasn't entirely sure.

Castiel's eyes widened in shock as Sam took the knife, only a few seconds after it being offered. It appeared that the man didn't even need to think about it, but he could be, of course, wrong. Sam Winchester was no longer the Sam everyone thought he still might be, Castiel knew that, but the thought of him willingly raising his own demon army made him angry, sickened.

Sam held onto the knife, the handle hard and white, made from ancient ivory. The blade glistened in the last rays of sunlight, eager to draw his blood.

"If I do this," Sam started, his voice strong and steady. "Castiel goes free."

"It would do him some good to see this." Zachariah laughed, sounding amused. Sam's heart sank. He had failed already, and the two men left of his family would know that. He felt their eyes on him, as they sat hidden behind bushes.

"Let him go." Sam bravely demanded, his grip on the blade tightening. The grey-suited angels face darkened, sending shivers of fear down Sam's spine.

"You have options, here. Either you draw the blood, Winchester, or the angel dries up. No matter what you decide, the angel is staying."

For a moment, Sam was left speechless, unable to think of anything but the numbness spreading throughout his body. He then took a deep breath, as he tried his last attempt.

"Fine." His voice was determined. "But at least let me move him. Quite frankly, he stinks."

The amused smile returned to Zachariah's lips, and for a very brief moment, Sam can really believe that the man before him is an angel.

"Of course." He said, before flicking his hand, as if swatting a fly away. Castiel lifted into the air, a good six feet, and flew across Heaven's graveyard. "I had forgotten about your...demonic traits."

Sam's breathing stopped, for a second, as he watched Castiel hit a tree, and slump to the ground. His mind was washed with doubt; had they really thought 3 mere humans could take on an angel?

He gulped back the bile crawling slowly up his throat, and returned his attention to Zachariah. He moulded his face back into heartless determination, and nodded a 'thank you' to his immortal enemy.

At the same time, they both looked up at the now dark blue sky. The sun had fallen past Angel-Mound, past the horizon.

"It is time." Zachariah boomed, cheering. He waved his big hand in front of him, reminding Sam of a telesales person, and an altar appeared as if it had been there the whole time. Instantly, Sam recognised the gruesome bowl Zachariah picked up carefully. It was the same one as Meg Masters had used not so many years ago.

The angel turned away from Sam, facing north, and began to chant something in a language his ears had never heard before. He couldn't translate it, which frustrated him. For a quick second, he allowed himself to steal a glance, at his brother, over his shoulder. Dean looked as nervous as Sam felt.

*

Dean looked away from his brother and into the eyes of Anna.

"What's he saying?" He asked her about Zachariah.

"I don't know." She shook her head, sounding frustrated. "But I don't think we thought this through properly."

"What do you mean?" Dean allowed the panic to lace his words, and he fought against the sudden instinct to run. Run and never look back.

"The power Zach has, how he can turn on Castiel like that, it's not something I can do. Neither can Cas, for that matter." She looked at him, her eyes wide.

"So, he's not an angel?"

"No. He's not." She shook her head again, and returned her gaze to the back of the grey-suited man. "He is so, _so_ much more worse than that."

"I'll bite." Dean's eyebrows had raised, and he could no longer hold the fear from his face.

"He's an Archangel."

"Heaven's most powerful and feared weapon." He nodded in understanding. "We're so screwed." He muttered under his breath, as he too, returned to watching over his brother. Anna's hand rested on Dean's, warm and light and pale next to his tanned, tough skin.

"We'll be okay." She soothed. He twisted his hand in hers, and then laced his fingers with Anna's.

"Promise me that you'll get out of here the moment anything turns South." Dean turned back to look into the eyes he wished he could stare into forever, and when Anna smiled, his stomach did a back flip.

"You should start salting the circle. We don't have much time."

*

Castiel looked up at the sky. Dark, threatening clouds were rolling in, the wind was picking up and ruffling his hair, and the temperature had dropped suddenly. He couldn't help but wonder where his brothers and sisters were; why they hadn't come to stop the army from raising. The almost silent rustling in the bushes caught his attention, and he breathed a sigh of relief through his nose as he saw Anna peer out from behind them. She placed her finger over her mouth, a gesture to tell him to stay quiet. He nodded, showing he understood. Castiel hadn't seen Anna since he had handed her over to be killed, and he did not know how she had managed to escape again. In a way he marvelled in her forbidden bravery. Castiel pushed back any emotion that he shouldn't be feeling. It was forbidden. Anna was crouching down beside him, still half hidden, when she pulled out the familiar blade from her sleeve. He froze. Anna repeated the finger to lips gesture again, and when Castiel nodded again, she cut through the leather bounds in one swift movement. She helped him up, even though he was longer in pain, and pulled him into the surrounding woods as he ungagged himself.

"Are you okay?" Anna asked once she believed them to be deep enough to talk safely.

"Yes." Castiel answers simply. He studied her for a minute. Her hair was still the same coppery red, her eyes still the same big eyes, her mouth still close to a smile even though she wasn't happy. But there was something different. Something he couldn't put his finger on. He could see it, feel it, and very nearly smell it. And even though his instincts allowed him all of this, they couldn't tell him what _it_ was. "Thank you." He finally spoke in his deep, husky voice.

"Anytime." Anna shrugged, glancing around her nervously.

"Is Sam speaking the truth? Has Dean passed on at the hand of his own brother?" As Castiel spoke the words, his former order floods his mind;

_Shall a Winchester's time come to pass,_

_It shall stay as our Father intended._

_He shall rejoice in the fields of our Lord,_

_And it shall be forbidden to return the soul to Earth._

"No." Anna whispered. "Dean is fine. He's here, now, somewhere."

And there _it_ is. Castiel can taste it now, and although he has never experienced taste before, his vessel has. And he can only describe this sensation on his tongue as 'sweet'. He does not need it explained for him, he already knows. This is something his instincts _can_ tell him.

"It is too dangerous for a mortal to fight our war, Anna." Castiel said, ignoring the blasphemy Anna is having troubles ignoring herself.

"We know, Cas." Anna bit. "But I don't see anyone else stepping up to the plate."

He nodded, understanding too well. No other angel would willingly take on an archangel, and as God hadn't authorised action, no other would risk it.

"What can I do?" He finally asked.

*

Sam stood, watching as Zachariah finished his ritual. He had faced the four directions - North, East, South, West – dripping a little of his own blood at each one. Sam couldn't remember reading anything about it, and found himself wondering if he had gotten any of the information right. Finally, Zachariah turned to face him, an evil glint in his small eyes.

"It's time, Sam." He grinned, making Sam's skin crawl. There was little light now that the clouds had covered the sky, and the wind whipped around, making his hair dance to a violent, silent composition. "Come! Come!" Zachariah urged him forwards, and he obeyed. Sam didn't need to be told what to do, but Zachariah obliged excitedly. "Just a little incision, enough to finalise everything."

Sam caught a flash of dark blue and red, letting him know the circle had been successfully completed.

Taking a deep breath, and bracing himself, Sam placed the cold blade on the inside of his forearm. Then, with a little pressure, slid the knife downwards slicing open his white skin. Blood, the colour of a dark violet in the lack of light, poured down his arm, his wrist, his hand and stopped at the tip of his fore and middle fingers. Sam could smell the iron from his cut, making him feel sick. Getting over excited, Zachariah reached over and squeezed his arm. Sam cried out in pain, and more of the thick liquid rolled down his arm, finally gathering to a drip. A little more pressure, and another cry from Sam, blood finally dripped. Drip. Drip. Drip.

_The sky rumbled, lightening flashed, wind howled._

Sam pulled out of the grasp and backed away, cringing. He could hear Zachariah speaking in the same language as before, stirring the liquid that now had both their blood mixed together. The ground started to shake, and Sam fought the urge to turn on the spot and run as fast as he could in the opposite direction. He takes a look around him, and doesn't panic when he sees Castiel missing, because when he looks properly, he can see the tail of the brown coat he wears behind one of the big bushes. Sam looked down at the ground, as a roar erupted and it split in two. Zachariah had finished the ritual.

"They're coming!" He boomed, clearly more pleased than anyone should be. The burning, bright orange glow in the Earth's cracks burned Sam's legs. "Soon," Zachariah continues, "the world will be bowing down to our presence. The Lord will be forgotten. We will be the new Gods!"

Sam felt sick, and couldn't help but wretch. He didn't have time to throw up, though, as black demonic smoke raced up out of the ground, knocking him off of his feet. He watched in disgusted awe as the salted circle filled with smoke, eager for bodies to possess.

"What's going on?" Zachariah raged as the ground resealed, but the demons didn't leave. Sam scrambled up, time now limited, and headed for the group he could see on the other side of the greenery.

"Bobby!" Sam yelled over the roaring of demons. "Now!"

Bobby didn't need telling more than once, and immediately started reciting the exorcism he knew by heart.

"Sammy, are you okay?" Dean asked, concern covering his face.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Sam replied, taking the gauze and tape from his brother, and wrapping up his bleeding arm. Dean nodded, and then turned to Castiel.

"Are you sure you are strong enough for this? To help us?"

"I am fine." Castiel nodded.

"We'd better get moving." Anna said, not being able to see Zachariah through the whizzing smoke.

"Sam, you and Cas take the other side, me and Anna will stay to guard Bobby." Dean ordered. Nobody argued. Instead, the half-demon and angel disappeared through the smoke.

"Anna, if we get out of this alive, we are going to have _so_ much sex." Dean said, sounding like he was joking, but his face said nothing but seriousness.

"Dean..." Anna hesitated. "I think I love you." She whispered. Dean didn't need to ask her to repeat herself, he heard her perfectly well. He thought he'd be able to hear her from across the graveyard if she had whispered. His heart swelled, and he thought he could cry.

"Anna, I..."

"Get down." Her face turned dark, all emotion absent.

"What?" He said, confused.

"Get down! Now!" She cried, and Dean did. He dropped to the floor in seconds, taking Bobby with him. He looked up, spitting mud out of his mouth, and watched as a smug but angry Zachariah approached them. Anna took on a fighting stance.

"Sam!" Dean yelled, not needing to say anything else. Within seconds, Sam's voice filled the air as he recited the exorcism loudly, taking over from Bobby. Zachariah responded by flicking his hand, as he had done with Castiel, and Dean found himself being thrown through the air with Bobby, both hitting a tree before landing. Dean winced, and groaned, sure he had broken a few ribs. He looked over at Bobby. He was lying motionless.

*

Anna watched as the two men she was fond of, flew into the air and out of her sight.

"Anna! How lovely of you to join me!" Zachariah smirked, sarcasm dripping heavily from his words.

"You've made too many mistakes, Zach." Anna said, her voice a little shaky. "I'm not going to let you make anymore." She dropped the blade out from her sleeve again, and ran, as fast as she could, towards her target. She lifted it, ready to slam it down into the archangel, but before she could touch him, it flew out of her grasp so sharply it cut her skin and jerked her hand back so hard it broke her wrist. She felt herself panic, falter, as she was left defenceless and in pain. Zachariah flung his head back in laughter.

"You foolish woman. You cannot defeat me!"

Taking advantage of his seconds of vulnerability, and clenched her hand, and hit him as hard as she could. He only staggered a little, as if he was dodging something. He sighed, shaking his head, his face distorted into something far uglier than plain anger. Anna blinked, something foolish. She didn't see the fist coming towards her until she felt the blow, knocking her to the ground. She could feel the blood in her mouth before she could taste it, and her head hurt badly from hitting it on an old tree root. Zachariah loomed over her, kneeling on one knee, as he pulled her up by the collar of her jacket.

"You should leave some things well alone, dear Anna. You never learn, do you?" and then he hit her again, making colourful blotches appear in her vision. They didn't have time to clear before another blow came. And then another. She could hardly breathe. Anna knew that her jaw and nose were broken, her throat was pooling with blood. She had no strength, so she couldn't fight back when the big, clammy hands closed around her throat, choking the life from her.

And that's when she saw him. Her own earth-bound angel.

*

Dean jumped onto the back of the archangel killing Anna. Zachariah stood, unaffected by the extra weight, and threw Dean from his back. Dean refused to cry out in pain as another rib broke. Still, he pulled himself up, wincing slightly.

"You, Winchester, have been a pain in my ass for too long now." Zachariah almost laughed, seeming pleased that he was finally getting what he thought was 'justice' for Dean's existence. Dean pulled back his arm, and put all of his strength into a punch. He should have known better, from experience. Castiel was just a normal angel, and when dean had punched him, the angel barely reacted. This was much worse. Zachariah's face didn't even move.

"Oh crap. That can't be good." He muttered, ignoring the throbbing of broken bones in his hand. Again, Zachariah punched him, getting too much joy out of it, knocking Dean backwards. He tripped over the unconscious Anna, and ground his teeth against a cry as he felt his hip dislocate. Grey and black splodges crossed his eyesight, tunnel vision finally setting in as ringing in his ears dulled out nearly every sound.

"Castiel!" His muffled plea was hardly above a whisper, but he was sure the angel could hear him. "Help." He watched as Zachariah bent down and picked up the blade Anna had risked her life to get from Heaven. The second he plunged into Anna, and a blue, pure light erupted from her every orifice, Dean knew what blade it was. It as the blade Uriel had used to kill seven angels. The blade Anna used to kill Uriel when she was saving Castiel's life. The blue light died, Anna along with it.

"Cas!" Dead tried again, but his breaths were coming in quick gasps as his lungs filled with blood, which leaked out of his mouth. A rib had punctured his right lung. He turned his head, slowly, and watched as the demonic smoke disappeared back into the ground. Sam looked at him, from across the graveyard, with pure horror on his face. It was then Dean faced the reality of his situation. He was going to die. For good, this time.

Zachariah walked over to Dean, still with the same smug look on his face.

"No last requests?" He sneered. Dean knew that even if Sam started running now, he wouldn't make it in time. Where was Castiel? He needed Castiel...

Dean just glared, staring into the eyes of his killer. He saw the blade sink into his abdomen before he felt it. But when he did feel it, the air rushed out of his lungs, as a white hot searing pain passed through his body, setting every nerve on fire. He was burning, burning alive. Still, he refused to scream.

Zachariah bent down, close enough for Dean to smell the cologne the archangel's vessel was wearing.

"Hows t-this for a l-last request....you s-son of a bitch. G-go to h-ell." And then, using the last of his strength, and ignoring the excruciating pain that ruptured in every pore, Dean pulled the knife out of himself, and into Zachariah's chest. The same bright blue light poured from him, but Dean wouldn't believe it was pure, like Anna's had been. Satisfied, he laid his head down next to Anna's, and using his final breath, he whispered,

"I love you, too."

Finally, death engulfed him.

* * *

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	8. Chapter 8

**So...the finale!! Wooh!  
I hope you cry! Lol jokes!  
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xoxoxox **

* * *

**Chapter 7  
****The End **

Sam ran and jumped over the dead body of Zachariah, and fell to his knees at his brother's side. He had seen Dean moving only seconds ago, but now there was no life.

"Dean?" His voice was hoarse and his throat stiff. It ached as grief restricted airflow. "Dean?" He repeated, rolling him over on to his back. Dean's head lolled to one side, his eyes were open and clouded. "No. No, no, no." Sam pulled the head of his brother onto his lap. He refused to believe what was so evidently clear. "C'mon, Dean, c'mon. Get up, it's over. Get up." He rocked slightly, as Dean had done with him when Sam was just a kid and had had a nightmare. That's what all of this was; a horribly vivid, terrifying nightmare. "You can't die. You can't leave me. I need you, Dean."

Saying the name of the only other Winchester was like a cough syrup to a chest infection – it didn't make it better, but it soothed a little. And Sam believed that if he said it enough, Dean would hear him and remember to wake up. Remember to _breathe_.

"Sam?" A familiar accented voice whispered. Sam looked up, and saw Bobby watching him, looking slightly confused. He was resting against a tree, his face pale, supporting his left arm with his right. "Is he..." Bobby trailed off.

"He's badly hurt. We, uh, we need to get him some help." Sam said, wiping his eyes, and standing up.

"What about Anna..."

"She's, erm, gone."

"Okay." Bobby nodded, swallowing the little saliva in his dry mouth. "We'll load them up in the car. Let's go." Sam nodded, picking up Dean, careful not to cause anymore damage to the body he would return the life to. He tried to ignore the misshaped hip, as he stumbled a little under the weight. Once he made it to the impala, Bobby cracked open the back door. The creaking of hinges filled the silent night air as the door opened, and as it closed.

"I'll go and get Anna." Sam sighed, his voice sounding weak, his body was hunched. Bobby knew all too well the situation Dean was in, and had to still a cry as the body in the back seat slid down and the head hit the window. If it wasn't for the blood staining one cheek, he would have thought Dean was just sleeping with his mouth slightly open. The pain in his chest, his heart, allowed him to forget the pain of a sprained wrist and a concussion.

Anna lay on the bed next to Dean's in one of the many spare rooms in Bobby's house. Sam sat on a hard, wooden chair, a medic pack on the table next to him. He pulled the chair closer to his brother, and reached over to undo the buttons on his button down shirt. He refused to vomit as he saw the smallest wound in Dean's abdomen, surrounded in blood, some of it close to sludgy clots. He pulled some cotton wool from the roll, and dipped it into the warm, salty water.

"I'm patching you up." Sam whispered as he wrung out the cotton, and brought it down to the wound. "So when I get you back, you're not such a mess." He wiped softly at the skin, the blood staining the pure white he held in his hand. He threw the soiled cotton into the bin, and started afresh. "It doesn't look that bad. I can't believe you wimped out on a single knife wound." Sam laughed, humourlessly. "Bobby thinks I'm losing my mind." Again, he threw another piece of blood stained cotton into the bin, and pulled some more from the roll. "You know, I can remember when I was about four, or five, and I kept hounding you about Dad.

_Dean, just tell me the truth. Where's Dad, and why's he gone so long?_

_You don't want to know, Sammy._ You warned me over and over again.

But you were just protecting me, Dean. I get that now. I know I always pretended I didn't remember, but that's because I didn't want to keep reminding you that I was just another of your responsibilities."

The wound was clean now, a circle of tanned skin in the middle of a red and brown stain, the wound directly in the centre. Sam reached for some fishing wire and the sterilized hooked needle. He threaded it, and then pierced the skin at the top edge of the stab wound. He cringed.

_You can do this, Sam_. He thought to himself. _Just like any other gash. You've done it a million times._

"You know," Sam continued, his voice falling on dead ears, as he continued to stitch carefully, slowly, precisely. "I didn't talk much about my family before when I was at school. Not to Jessica, not to my friends. But I can remember this one time, just after me and Jess started dating, when I mentioned you. Of course, I didn't want to talk about you Dean, but Jess was just as stubborn as you are._ Were._" He faltered a little, but then carried on as if stitching something made of gold. "Anyways, she asked me what Dad was like, and I told her he was nothing compared to my older brother. 'Dean was my rock', I told her. 'He practically raised me himself. From the age of, hell I can't even remember, he was always there for me.' And I wished so hard that you could've been there, Dean. I did. But you were too busy running off and hunting things down, just like Dad raised you to." He bit back then anger towards his deceased father, as he finished off the final stitch. "I know, " He whispered, as he cut the thread, and rested the needle back onto the table. "You didn't want this life any more than the next hunter. You pushed your dreams aside, forgot about them. But that doesn't matter, because when your back, we're going to forget it all, everything; Demons, spirits, Hell. You're going to have a family, a couple of kids, a white picket fence. I'll even come and see you every Sunday, and we'll go for a beer and watch sports on the T.V." Sam placed some gauze over the stitched skin, and taped it into place. He pulled out a cloth from under the bowl of water, wet it, and started to wash the rest of the drying blood on Dean's skin. "Maybe I'll even go back to school." Sam considered as if Dean could hear him. Once the skin was blood free – torso and cheek – Sam walked down to the dislocated hip. "It's a good job you can't feel this." He lifted the leg, so it rested on Sam's shoulder, one of his hands on the calf, the other ready to push into the hip. And then he jolted it upright, and inwards. The joint popped into place, and Sam gently rested the leg back onto the bed. He collapsed back onto the chair, his doctoring finally finished. "I'm going to have to leave for a bit. I'm going to make a few calls, get some help. I promise to get you back, Dean." Sam got up, slowly, and turned his back on the still form. His hand rested on the door handle as he spoke. "It's my turn to look out for you, brother." Then he walked out, closing the door silently.

Sam kept his head down as he walked along the corridor, counting his steps so he couldn't think of anything else. The whipping of invisible wings and the soft breeze ruffling a single strand of his hair told him to look up. He did. Castiel, who had vanished after Dean had fallen, was stood a few metres away from him.

"What do you want?" Sam spat, his eyes sore and blurred.

"Sam, I am sorry..."

"You don't know what sorry feels like!"

"We need to talk." The angel said, his voice low and powerful.

"I can't. I've got things to do." Sam started to walk towards him, and if Castiel didn't move, he was willing to make him do so.

"It's important." The angel pushed, and Sam stopped.

"Important? Unless you can bring Dean back, I don't care what you and your clan have to say." Sam waited for an answer, and when he didn't get one, he pushed forwards past Castiel.

"Sam." There was almost a threat to Castiel's tone, but Sam ignored him, and turned the corner to descend the stairs. The angel didn't follow.

Sam ignored Bobby, who was sitting in his old armchair, drinking from a bottle of whiskey. He grabbed the car keys, to the Impala, and left without speaking a word. If there was one thing that could bring Dean back, it was the one demon that brought him back. He jumped into the car, refusing to believe there was no other way but this way, and raced out onto the road, not pausing to think, to feel. The only thing Sam could feel was hatred, and determination.

Sam drove, not caring about the speed limit, as he pushed the speedometer past 80. His heart raced, his soul drowned, his body ached. But he wasn't giving up hope. If the angel wouldn't help him, someone, or some_thing_, else would. He put on the stereo, and within the first three seconds, turned off the Motorhead tape and tuned in to a radio station. He wasn't going to listen to those tapes again, unless Dean put them on himself.

"_...So many things we believed in, Now you're leaving and words won't bring you back..."_

Sam turned the station over, to another, as the tears he held back started to win the fight, and they rolled down his cheeks.

"_And I would have stayed up with you all night, Had I known how to save a life."_

Sam punched the steering wheel, after turning the stereo off, and felt his knuckles crack. Lights just up the road let him know there was a garage. He didn't need gas, but there was something else he could use. He swerved in, the back of the car kicking out a little, and the tyres squealed on the road, but he didn't care. He got out the car, unknown to him his face looked dangerous, and slammed the door behind him. Walking into the little garage store, he took a quick look around, not caring for the scared looks the three people in there were giving him. And then he found it – a bottle of the finest scotch. He grabbed it and marched past the customers and up to the counter, where he slammed down the bottle.

"Bad day?" The tall, skinny boy asked, as he scanned the scotch. Sam didn't answer, instead he silently wondered if threatening the kid would shut him up.

"Keep the change." He mumbled instead, slapping a fifty on the counter and storming out of the store. He got back into the Impala, and rushed away, leaving only the smell of burning rubber as evidence of him being there.

He pushed harder on the gas when he looked down to see the needle on the speedometer only just reaching 90mph. Taking a deep breath, he reached over to the bottle on the seat beside him, put it in between his thighs and used the uninjured hand to unscrew the cap. He took three mouthfuls of the harsh liquor and pushed down harder on the gas pedal.

Summoning the Crossroads demon was nothing new to Sam – he had tried when Dean died, before. He got up, after burying the box he needed, and gulped down some more of the scotch as he pushed the last of the gravel over the hole he had dug with his feet. Rain had started to pour down, heavily, sending chills down to Sam's bones, but he didn't care – the liquor warmed him enough.

"Come on!" He yelled into thin air, spreading his arms in his drunken state, after a no show of the Demon. "What are you waiting for?!"

"Calm down, Sam Winchester." An unfamiliar feminine voice said, sounding amused. "You'll give yourself an aneurism." Sam spun around to face the blonde haired woman approaching him cautiously. He felt the coolness of Ruby's old knife against the flesh of his back.

"I want to make a deal." Sam drunkenly slurred. His nostrils flared, the vein in his temple throbbed and his jaw muscles flexed; the demon was only inches away.

"That's becoming the Winchester's signature move." The demon taunted. "First Johnny, then Dean, and now Sammy...again."

"Bring Dean back." Sam demanded of the demon, who was now circling him, knowing she held some power against him. "I'll give you my soul."

"No can do, I'm afraid." She smiled, as she brushed past Sam and walked the way she had come.

"What will it take?" Sam shouted after it, feeling light headed, and he took another swig of the over half empty bottle. "What do you want in return?" He threw the bottle he was holding onto, with little aim, after the evil creature he was trying so desperately to bargain with. It missed, and landed almost three feet away from her. The demon stopped, and looked down at it, and then back at Sam. Her eyes turned red, only for a second, making him cringe.

"I can't bring your brother back, Sam, because it's not allowed. What's dead should stay dead."

"Since when do you care about that?" He spat.

"Since my life depended on the rules, Winchester." The demon snapped, seemingly offended at Sam's accusation.

"Why? What's so different this time?"

"I can't tell you any more than I have. Maybe you should ask those Angel friends of yours." She was close again – within striking distance. Sam wrapped his fingers around the knife's handle.

"That's it?"

"That's everything I know." Without speaking another word, he pulled the knife out and ran the blade fiercely across the crossroad-demon's throat in one swift movement. The familiar orange light glowed within the slashed wounds, a few orange sparks jumping, as the demons head rolled back slightly, and then she fell to the floor, knees first. Nowhere near satisfied, Sam turned back, got into Dean's car, and raced back, dangerously, to Bobby's house.

*

Bobby didn't speak to Sam as Sam pushed past him on the porch for the tenth time this week. He was dealing with this death far worse than the first time. Sam hadn't spoken a word to Bobby, unless it was to ask questions about bringing people back from the dead, or to see how his research was going. And if Sam wasn't researching, or calling around, or visiting people, he was in a drunken state at Dean's side. It was breaking Bobby's heart – it was like both brothers had died. At least, the first time, there had been the light of hope in Sam's eyes, but now there was only a dim light of being defeated, and anger. Lots, and lots of anger – enough to permanently mangle his face into something almost demonic.

Instead of trying to calm him, Bobby stepped down off the front porch, and headed to the bed of wood he had prepared for when the time of Dean's ceremony came. It had been five days, and he knew that there wasn't much time left before Dean's body would be too far gone to keep lying around. He picked up the can of gasoline, and started to soak the wood, as tears fell freely from his eyes, rolled down his cheeks and got lost in a sea of an overgrown beard.

Sam stopped in the living room, and started to pace in the small area. Books and pieces of paper were strewn across a coffee table – all evidence of a day spent researching faith healers, and reapers, and psychics, and anything else that may be able to bring dean back. It had been the worst failure ever – no one would help him. Every single person, or demon, or spirit, had told him exactly the same thing – it couldn't be done. Finally, admitting he needed help and answers from someone else, he called out for the one other he could thought he could trust. Someone he hadn't seen since the day of his brother's passing.

"Castiel! I know you can hear me! Get your self-righteous, hypocritical ass down here! I need to talk with you!" There was no reply. "Castiel!" He called so loud his throat burned, as if he was swallowing sandpaper. The disturbance in the air and the flapping of clothes alerted Sam to turn around. The angel stood, facing the hunter, his face like stone. "Fix him. Now." Sam demanded.

"I cannot help you." Castiel replied, his eyes looking down to his shoes.

"Don't give me any of that bull. I know you can do it."

"I am not allowed to change the fate of a person, Sam." He looked up into the red-rimmed eyes of the human stood before him. He once thought mortals interesting to watch, but now he felt uncomfortable. A hollow feeling twisted in the vessel's gut.

"You've done it before!" Sam roared, desperate. "Please."

"Dean has fulfilled his destiny. He is resting now in the fields of the Lord. He is at peace."

"Fulfilled his destiny? He died saving your consecrated ass! Is that how God works? Angels over humans?!"

"Would you rather he returned to this?" Castiel spoke, his voice powerful, strong, and threatening, yet soft and angry. "A world of pain and anger? Destruction and guilt? What makes all of this worthy of being held onto?"

"Family." Sam replied, his voice matching the angels. "Love. Humanity. Dean has the right to have all of them. _I_ have the right to all of them."

"I am sorry." Castiel bowed his head, his hands folded in front of him.

"I am begging you, Cas. Please. After everything he's done..."

"I cannot disobey my Fathers orders. His word is final."

"Your Fathers orders? There is no God, Castiel! If there was, we wouldn't have had to fight a damned apocalypse! How gullible can you be?" Sam shouted, his head hurt and his throat was raw.

"I have faith." Castiel looked up, his head cocked to one side, trying to understand why the human could no longer believe. For years, Castiel listened in on his silent prayers. How could he just stop?

"Faith? Faith doesn't mean anything. Faith wasn't enough before, and it won't be enough now, or in the future. If you cared so much about what was right and what was wrong, you would help me." Sam tried his best to persuade the set mind of the immortal, but feeling nothing but grief and anger, he had nothing to persuade him with.

"It is forbidden, Sam. I am feeling something I can only describe as sorry." Castiel bowed his head, once, and then disappeared, leaving Sam, once again, left alone in the room. He collapsed into the sofa, allowing himself to sob, to cry, to grieve his brother's death. It was something he needed to accept, to come to terms with. Bobby walked into the room, smelling of wood chips, gasoline and salt.

"It's ready, Sam." Bobby whispered, loud enough for Sam to hear him. "Would you like some time alone before we..." He trailed off, unsure on whether Sam would be able to handle the words. He stifled a sob of his own, trying to stay strong for Sam.

The Winchester nodded, and pushed himself up onto his feet. He made his legs move, walked up the stairs and down the corridor. He took a deep breath and entered the room, barely able to see through the never ending stream of tears. His knees gave out, and he collapsed back into the wooden chair.

"Hey Dean." He pushed his voice out. "I, uh, tried so hard, but I, erm, can't save you. I'm so sorry. I promised you I would get you back, get you home, and I failed. The one time I could do something for you, and I messed up. I'm, um, going to miss you so much, and it hurts so bad. I can barely breathe. What am I going to do, Dean? How am I supposed to do this alone? I need you here." Sam stopped, now blinded by the salt water. He took a deep breath, and wiped his eyes. After another deep breath, he carried on, his voice a little steadier, but the tears still streaming. "Castiel says you're in a, um, a better place now. Reserve me a spot, will you? Don't forget me, Dean. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. It was always my fault. Erm, hey, man, I'll see you soon, okay? And, uh, say hi to mum and dad for me. Tell them I love them, and miss them." Sam stopped, letting out an earth shaking cry, his heart breaking in two. He couldn't face this; losing Dean all over again. He sat, and cried for what seemed like forever before Bobby knocked on the door and entered. He felt the comforting hand on his shoulder, and he drew in a breath.

"Are you done?" Bobby asked, his voice weak.

"Erm, yeah. Yeah, I'm done." Sam stood, his legs shaking.

"I'll bring him down. Just give me a few minutes, okay?"

Sam nodded, and turned to leave the room. Before he closed the door, he turned back to his father-figure and mentor, and said;

"Bobby, where's Anna?"

"Angel-Mound. She's at rest." Bobby replied, no longer hiding his grief. Sam nodded, and closed the door behind him. Bobby finally let out all of the emotions he had hidden from Sam.

Sam waited patiently outside by the bed of wood. He allowed himself to cry now, no longer ashamed, accepting the final goodbye. He looked up at the sky, grief crushing him, hoping the angel that had always vowed to help the brothers was watching.

"You promised to help us, Castiel!" He yelled at the stars, not caring who else could hear. "You promised, you son of a bitch!" After no response, not that he was expecting one, he looked back down at the wooden mound, not really seeing it, and not really believing it was his brother they were about to burn.

Bobby walked through the door, carrying the body wrapped in white cloth. Sam looked up at him, and Bobby's heart broke all over again. He didn't want to burn the man he looked at as his own son, but he knew that he couldn't hold on to something that was no longer there. He stepped down the steps, careful not to trip, and walked slowly over to Sam, who was crying so hard he could have passed out. Gently, he laid Dean down onto the wood, and then stepped back.

"Do you, uh, want to say something?" He asked the breathing Winchester. Sam shook his head, unable to talk.

"Okay." Bobby nodded, and picked up the can of gasoline he had used earlier. He poured the rest over the body, barely able to breathe.

"Bobby." Sam whispered, his voice strangled. "Thanks." The older man nodded, and placed the can back onto the floor. He pulled the book of matches out of his pocket.

"Do you want to do it, or should I?" Bobby asked. Sam held out his hand ready. He took the matches. He stood staring at them, wondering if Dean's soul would feel the flames licking at his cold skin. Deciding it was best not to think of such things, he struck it.

The rest happened in slow motion. The flame burned hungrily on the tiny wooden stick, the wind blew for a quick second, lightening flashed, hitting the body wrapped up. Then it moved, jerking about and gasps could be heard beneath the cotton. For a moment, Sam didn't move, unsure on whether he was seeing things. Then, he blew the matches out, throwing them away from him, and rushed to the mound of wood. Bobby was there too, as the both grabbed at any part of fabric they could, pulling and pushing and ripping. Finally, the head was free, and Dean looked up at them.

"What the Hell?" He said, his voice thick and sounding dry.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, pulling his brother in to his arms and holding onto him so tight Dean winced in pain.

"Watch it, Sam. I feel like I've been stabbed." Dean croaked.

"B-but how? Me and Sam, we tried everything." Bobby spoke in awe, gobsmacked. Sam let go of Dean, and looked over to Bobby, as they both freed the revived man from the cloth.

"I think I know." Dean muttered, looking up. "Look." He nodded his head in the direction, his arms too sore to move. The two men followed his gaze.

A meteor flashed brilliantly through the sky.

_Another angel had fallen._

**Epilogue**

Dean stood at the foot of the grave. The sun was out, illuminating the great oak at the top of the mound, and reflected off of the brilliant white crosses. There was no sign of the battle that had claimed lives, and for that, Dean was grateful. The grave wasn't marked by name, but he knew it was where Anna, and part of his heart, was buried. He lit the white candle he had brought with him, and laid it at the base of the cross. The flame danced in the wind, never blowing out.

"Thank you, Anna." He spoke to her grave. "You died protecting me, this world, and for that, I owe you everything. And I want to say thank you for opening me up again. I have this theory, you see; God sent you to me to show me that it was okay to love someone, okay to care, after everything I went through down in the Pit. I hope you are at peace, resting, and I know I'll see you one day, so I'm holding onto that. I love you Anna." He planted a kiss on his forefinger and middle finger and brushed them over the top of the cross. "Always." Dean wiped the single tear that rolled down his cheek with his thumb, and attempted a cheeky grin, one he knew Anna once loved.

Then he turned around, and hobbled back to the car on his crutch. Back to where Sam and Bobby were waiting for him. Back to his family.

* * *

**So...there you have it! that's the end! **

**So glad it's over, coz now I can concentrate on the piece I'm writing at the moment, which wont be posted until at least next week...but it's pretty kick ass (or so I'm told anyways)**

**What do you think? was it any good?**

**Wanted a different ending?**

**Please leave a review! Because reviews equal love, and love equals supernatural xD**

**lyl **

**xoxoxo **


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